


The mountain's secrets

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Erebor, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 9 of the Mapmaker Series. A human woman joins the company of Thorin Oakenshield on the quest to Erebor as a mapmaker and finds a lifelong love.</p>
<p>The new queen discovers a secret part of Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The mountain's secrets

The business of being a king did not grind to a halt simply because that king was a newlywed. Plans for settling the returning dwarves into their homes in the mountain and for the restoration of Erebor to its former glory often filled Thorin’s days with councils and audiences. He frequently requested your help – you were finding that your skill in cartography translated well to drawing plans of the mountain’s interior – but there were also days when you were left to your own devices between breakfast and suppertime. This particular day found you in the sitting room of the royal suite of chambers you shared with Thorin, poring over your renderings of an area on the southern side of the mountain. You couldn’t satisfy yourself as to the layout and proportions of a certain grouping of storage rooms, and after fussing over the parchment, drawing, striking through, and drawing again for quite some time, you decided the only thing for it was to go exploring.

With the plans in hand, you walked the long distance to one of the more remote sections of Erebor, the passages growing more narrow and faintly lit as you went. Coming at last to the rooms in question, you inspected each one, and saw the error in measurement that you’d made in the initial survey. Shaking your head at your own oversight, you moved close to the torchlight in the hallway to make your notes of correction. You glanced at the dead end of the passage before turning to leave, but something in the corner of your eye arrested your movement. 

Carefully taking a torch out of its bracket, you walked close to the stone wall. Your eyes hadn’t deceived you: the thick cobwebs that covered the wall were stirring ever so slightly, as though in a whisper of a breeze. Sweeping them aside with your hand, you saw that there was a rectangular chink in the rock, the perfect shape and size for a door. You had a brief thought of going to find someone, to ask where the door might lead, but impatient curiosity overcame you. The door was heavy, but by putting all of your weight into it for a few good pushes, you were able to budge it enough to make an opening you could just fit through.

Your torchlight illuminated a narrow tunnel, leading upward in a winding path. As you moved forward among the cobwebs and shadows, fleeting memories of goblins’ caves stirred in your mind, but your fascination drove you on. The tunnel sloped steeply upward for some time before arriving at the foot of a worn staircase of carved stone. You began to pant with effort, and stopped every once in a while to catch your breath, leaning with your hand on the cool stone of the wall. 

At last, you saw a dim light ahead, but surely not the light of a torch; it was a cool, white light. The air in the tunnel was becoming fresher, less stuffy, and just as you realized what that meant, you rounded a corner and saw the opening. You stepped carefully through the crevice in the rock and found yourself on a small, flat sort of terrace in the side of the mountain, carved into an overhang of stone. Stretching far away below you, as far as your eyes could see, was the vast plain, with the Running River a silver ribbon shimmering in the afternoon sun. The beauty of the view took your breath away, and you felt you could stay there for hours, just drinking it in…but not alone. Suddenly, you knew exactly what to do.

It was no rare occurrence for the cooks to see the Queen appear in the kitchens – you had grown up in humble circumstances, after all, and felt quite at home visiting with them and occasionally even rolling up your sleeves to knead bread dough or stir up cake batter, much to their amusement – and they were happy to help with your request. Soon, with a basket on your arm, neatly covered with a clean tablecloth, you were on your way to Thorin’s council chamber.

You knocked and heard his deep voice call, “come.” Opening the door, you peeked inside to see him leaning over a table, reading a parchment. His eyes lit up with surprise and delight when he looked up to see you. “Amrâlimê! I was just finishing here…to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Does a wife need a reason to visit her husband?” you asked cheekily. 

“Indeed not,” he smiled, walking around the table to kiss you. 

You sighed with contentment at the caress of his lips, smiling as he touched his forehead to yours. “But, as it happens, there _is_ a reason.” 

“And what is that?” 

“Come with me,” you ordered, a mischievous gleam in your eye. 

Thorin raised his eyebrows, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Where?” 

“Just come with me…trust me.“ 

He bowed his head and gestured forward with his hand. “At your service.” 

As you entered the passageway where your adventure had begun, Thorin looked around with questioning eyes. “Are you taking me to see the cellars?” he teased. 

“No, silly,” you grinned. “Hold the basket?” With your hands free, you reached for a torch and, feeling you could be forgiven a bit of dramatic flair, swept the torchlight over the opening you’d made by pushing the secret door ajar. 

Thorin’s eyes widened in surprise. “I do not know this door,” he said, his brows knitted together. 

It was your turn to look surprised. “You don’t?” 

He shook his head. “No. I have never seen it before. Where does it lead?” 

You laughed softly, even more excited to show him your discovery. “Follow me.”

When at last you reached the top of the tunnel’s stairs, you were as giddy as a child, leading Thorin onto the terrace with his eyes closed, cherishing the look on his face when you whispered, “open,” and he was struck by the stunning sight before him. He looked at the vast landscape, then turned all around, examining the alcove in which you stood, then went back to the view. “It is incredible,” he said at last. “To think that I never knew it was here…I have not heard even my grandfather speak of it.” 

“It must be ancient,” you suggested, and he nodded. 

“Most certainly.” 

The two of you stood silent for a few more minutes, scanning the horizon. “Well,” you said matter-of-factly, reaching for the basket, “it is surely a perfect place for a picnic.” 

Thorin smiled appreciatively as you spread the cloth on the stone floor and brought out a small feast of rabbit stew, a fresh loaf, seed cake, and a flask of wine. “I do believe I have married the cleverest woman in all of Middle-Earth.” You simply grinned up at him, patting the space on the ground beside you. 

He joined you, and you both sat with your backs against the rock wall, eating and talking until the sky began to darken, washed in pink and gold and lavender before settling into an inky, velvety black lit with millions of stars. Your eyes searched the endless night sky, and you heard Thorin sigh beside you. “What are you thinking of?” you asked, leaning your head back against the wall. 

He smiled. “I was thinking of all the nights we spent sleeping under those stars, never knowing what lay ahead, only trying to survive each day.” 

“It was never dull,“ you observed wryly, and he chuckled. 

“Never. And now, here we are…Erebor reclaimed, the throne secure…I have a beautiful wife by my side,” he took your hand and held it, looking thoughtfully into the distance. “I wish my father could have been here to see it.” 

Your heart ached for him. Thorin rarely spoke of his father, but you knew Thrain’s disappearance pained him. “Do you think he is still alive?” you asked quietly. 

Thorin played with your fingers for a few moments before answering, “in my heart…no. I do not think he is.” 

You squeezed his hand encouragingly and said, softly, “well…wherever he is, I am sure he would be very proud of his son.” He turned to you with a loving smile and kissed your hand in thanks. 

His gaze returned to the sky, and he suddenly pointed to a cluster of stars. “Do you see that constellation? That one, just there…my father taught me about it when I was a boy. There was a legend…” You rested your head on his shoulder and listened eagerly as he told you the meanings of the different formations, interspersed with his childhood memories, feeling as though you were the only two people in the world. 

At last, he stretched and stood up slowly. “Shall we go home, my sweet?” 

You took the hand he offered to help you up, and he raised you to your feet and pulled you into his arms for a lingering kiss. “This was for the moon,” you whispered. 

“The moon?” he wondered, and you nodded. 

“There was a night when a certain handsome dwarf took me on a walk through the woods to show me the most beautiful moon…” your eyes twinkled at the memory. “You gave me the moon, and I give you the stars.” 

A smile of remembrance had spread across his face, and he kissed you deeply once more. “Thank you,” he whispered against your cheek, holding you close. 

“Definitely home,” you murmured, making him laugh, and you joined hands to carefully navigate the tunnel back to the main hallway.

There would be many more picnics and stolen moments of companionship on your secret terrace in the days and years to come. And in the next council meeting, when all of your parchments were spread out on the large table for reference, you saw Thorin chuckle silently and meet your eyes with a knowing smile when he noticed that your exceedingly accurate, painstakingly detailed plans of Erebor’s southernmost section did not include any hint of a hidden tunnel.


End file.
